


go quiet (too quiet to think)

by StuntMuppet



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuntMuppet/pseuds/StuntMuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Season 3 Finale, Root checks up on John. Spoilers through the end of S3, canon character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	go quiet (too quiet to think)

**Author's Note:**

> One day I will stop making pretentious lowercase titles with parenthesis but today is not that day.

Root’s waiting for him when he returns to his apartment that night, leaning against the far wall with her arms folded. He doesn’t bother to ask her how she got in.

"You’re putting everyone at risk, John," she says, clipped and scolding. He makes a show of not acknowledging her, crossing instead to the shelf that stands in for a kitchen and retrieving a glass from beside the sink.

"Good to see you too," he comments, opening the battered plastic freezer and retrieving a pair of ice cubes from within.

"One of your coworkers felt the need to alert his supervisor," she says, looking in his direction but not taking a step closer. "He seemed to think that the guy at the office who didn’t talk to anybody and had two handgun permits might just be a security risk." Beside the glass is a half-empty bottle; he pours, and takes an imperceptible sip, tasting for anything dissolved in the liquor. "Funny the assumptions people make, isn’t it."

"You put anything in this?" He asks, casually, holding up the bottle for her. "I’d just like to know going in if you did."

It’s a few seconds before she concedes, fishing a plastic bag out of her pocket. Two tiny pink pills rest at the bottom. “I thought about it,” she replies. “But it seemed like overkill. I’m just here to talk for now.”

He swallows another mouthful and waits, to see if she’s telling the truth. “Takes just as much of a risk to check up on us like this, doesn’t it?” he asks.

She huffs an impatient sigh and taps her fingers against the side of her head, just behind the cochlear implant that murmurs to her even now.

He nods in recognition, and takes a deep drag from the glass. The liquor does little by now, hasn’t for years - it takes more and more to dull the senses enough to help. But what else is there for him to do, in these circumstances.

"If She can tell what’s going on, how long do you think it’ll take Samaritan to catch up?" she says, taking a seat on the couch backed against the far wall, facing the door. It’s all that’s here by way of furniture, save for a backless kitchen chair that’s been pushed out of the way of the fridge and the microwave. "I programmed it to exclude you, but that won’t protect you if you’re coming up on its radar on your own."

"So you’re saying I need a social life."

"You’re treating this like a cover ID, John. It’s a life. You can’t just drop it and become someone else if you’re compromised." She considers dumping the Valium in his glass anyway - making him drink it, and chase it with the whiskey. She’d have to deal with a lot less sarcasm that way. "Besides, I thought this worked out for you, all things considered. No more secrets, no more hiding. You could have a real life. Even a family."

"I had those. Not interested in a replacement." 

I know you don’t care what happens to you,” she says, as he crosses the apartment and leans against the wall facing the television, blank though it is. “But you’re putting Harold in danger, doing this. And Sam, and Lionel. And your friend’s son and ex-husband - you think they’d be spared, if Samaritan knew about her connection to you?” His free hand clenches, just a little, at the last remark. She’s stung him. She meant to. “And what for? So you can pout that you didn’t get what you wanted?”

He flips on the TV and continues not looking at her. She’s one to talk about having a real life, he thinks; she of all people should have understood what it was like to miss the guiding voice in your ear. But then again, she got to keep hers.

He thinks about explaining it to her, that the empty apartment and the solitude is a new life, that they’re how he’s started over every other time. But he doubts she’s interested.

"Everyone else has adjusted, you know. Even Sam." There’s a bleak smile, and the beginning of a laugh, behind his glass. "Not gracefully," she admits. "Nobody’s happy about it, John."

"Except you, right?" He taps the side of his head, mimicking her. "You’ve got everything you need."

She says nothing in answer, doesn’t even change her expression. He doesn’t know Her like she does, after all. He wouldn’t understand what it was like to hear Her cry.

(And she’d come to almost forgive Harold for what he’d done to Her, as She flooded her head with orders that they both knew she couldn’t obey.)

"I didn’t enjoy having to hurt people," she answers instead, heading towards the door. "But if it comes down to you or the rest of us? I’ll do what I have to."

He smiles in acknowledgement, and doesn’t lock the door after she leaves.


End file.
